


Leave the Camping to the Muggles

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, HP: EWE, M/M, Unrepentant Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing either of them wants is to be in the company of the other, but that’s what parenting is all about: not killing an insufferable git because you love your kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Camping to the Muggles

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the prompt and an idea sprang to mind.

 

  
  


“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me,” Draco complained as he stared at the note Teddy’d brought home from Hogwarts. It was a letter from Professor Sharp, the new Muggle Studies teacher, informing Teddy’s guardians of his ‘T’ in the class. He stopped reading once he’d got to the part about the grade and shook the parchment at Teddy, “Would you care to explain this to me?”

 

Teddy glanced up from his comic book--some horrible gift from the Weasel for his last birthday--and without a word went back to _Marvin The Mad Muggle_. Draco felt like ringing his mother, at the Floo, and apologising for every last snub he’d given her in his angsting teenage years. Dealing with a fourteen-year-old was not something he’d place in the “fun” column of life; rather Draco would file this under “worst thing ever”. Before he screamed, like a bloody harpy, Draco let out a slow, calming breath. “How can you have such a deplorable grade in Muggle Studies, Ted? You’re always doing Muggle things with your,” he struggled to keep the words _arsehole, waste of space other guardian, twatter,_ and a slew of other insults from falling off his tongue. He ended his silent battle by spitting out, “Your _Potter_?”

 

“We’ve never been camping, and apparently that’s the way I’m expected to make up the grade,” Teddy finally looked away from his comic, “My guardians are supposed to take me camping and I’m supposed to share the experience with Professor Sharp through an essay and photographic proof.”

 

“ _Camping_ ,” Draco shuddered, “You cannot expect me to go camping, Teddy. Not without magic.”

 

Teddy’s expression was one befitting a Black--all withering scorn--when he said, “You are going to take me, you and Harry, and we’re going to make up my grade.” Draco’s stance was still tense, showing that he refused to yield, and Teddy narrowed his eyes, “If I recall correctly, Draco, it was both yours and Harry’s suggestions that made me choose Muggle Studies. So far as I can tell you are both equally responsible for my grade.” When Draco opened his mouth to argue Teddy interrupted him before he could begin, “Why in the hell would you think that I’d be good at Muggle Studies when neither of you know a damn thing about Muggles?”

 

Draco deflated then, and he didn’t miss Teddy’s triumphant look--ruddy snake in badger’s clothing that boy was--when he agreed to the camping trip. With _Potter_ of all people, but, still, Draco supposed it could be worse. He could be going with _Weasel._

 

“I suppose we’ll need to work out the details with your other guardian when we see him at the weekend.”

  


Harry frowned when Draco handed him the letter from Professor Sharp. He read it, thrice over, before he said, “I’m sorry, you expect me to _what_?”

 

Draco gave him a withering glare that didn’t ruffle Harry in the slightest, and when Draco realised he wasn’t going to intimidate Harry (not that the bastard could intimidate a butterfly) into agreeing he opted for a different route. “Teddy said we’re both at fault for suggesting the class and both being shit at anything Muggle related.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes, and Draco flinched--much to Harry’s amusement--when Harry said, “He’s at school nine months out of the year, how exactly are _we_ responsible for his grade?”

 

“Perhaps you need less time with him; your stupidity is catching.” At thirty-two Harry still riled to Draco’s taunts, and it made him flush when he realised Draco was pleased by his reaction.

 

Instead of hurling further insults, as he wanted to do, Harry took the high road, leaning back in his seat, and said, “I don’t want to fight about this, Malfoy.” Truly, Harry didn’t want to fight with Draco. At the beginning of their forced co-parenting of Teddy, shortly after Andromeda’s death, they had been so violent with one another the courts ordered them to only speak to each other through their solicitors. Those were the dark days, and Harry had no desire to revisit them. They’d finally, in the last year or so, reached a grudging truce because of Teddy. Harry and Draco were not friends, not by a long shot, but they’d developed a mutual understanding. Honestly speaking that was about as miraculous as someone coming back from the dead.

 

Draco, seated opposite of Harry, leaned back in his own seat, a sour expression on his face while he spoke, “I just don’t understand why we both have to take him? Can’t you and the Weasel do this? He likes Muggle shit.”

 

Biting his tongue on a scathing retort Harry released a slow breath before he replied, “Look, it says _guardians_ , and God knows I don’t want to spend time with you either, but this is for Teddy.” Harry took off his glasses, set them against the worn pub table, and pressed his calloused fingers against his eyes. “And I want you to know I would move the earth for Teddy.”

 

“How heroic,” Draco mocked, but Harry could see the words got to him. Horrible as Malfoy was he truly would do anything for Teddy; of that Harry had never had a doubt. After a brief silence, Draco sighed, his face crumpled in defeat as he said, “All right then, Potter, when do we begin?”

 

Not two weeks after the dreaded pub meeting Draco was seated in an _automobile_ with Potter and Teddy. Potter was currently pulling the strip of fabric--a seat belt--over himself and Teddy was taking pictures. All the while Potter was explaining things to them, and Draco sucked at his lips to keep from shouting. It was going to be a long, long two weeks and they’d only been together for fifteen minutes.

 

“--this is the ignition, Teddy, and when you use the key it turns over the engine block under the hood, now, the engine is what makes the auto run.” And so it continued, as Potter explained all the little details of the interiour. When he’d come to the radio Draco gladly hit the little plastic knob--pleased when loud music drowned out the sound of Potter’s voice.

 

He looked angry and flush when he finally turned the sound down, and pinned Draco with those intense eyes, “Are you quite finished, Malfoy?”

 

“Hardly, Potter, I believe we haven’t even begun the first day of this fourteen day nightmare.” He flopped against his seat with exaggerated dramatic flare.

 

“You’re an insufferable git,” Potter hissed through his teeth before he pulled the Muggle contraption into traffic. The only sounds around them, for a long while, were those beyond the window. Horns that hurt Draco’s ears and the squeak of tires in the rain. Behind them, in the backseat Teddy’s quill was a steady scratch against parchment and beside Draco Potter’s breathing was loud. Much as he wanted to tell the fool to stop breathing so obnoxiously Draco doubted it would do much to make this journey any easier. So he suffered, silent, and decided to count Muggles as they rode to the unknown location Potter’d selected.

 

Scotland was a bit of a drive from Draco’s London flat, but Harry knew well this had to be a Muggle excursion and so repelling charms would leave Teddy with a crap grade. He could take them to the designated camping spots in England, but he was afraid there would be too many chances for mishaps with Muggles.  The last thing Harry wanted, or needed, was a reprimand from the Minister of Magic. It wouldn’t do to have the head of the Aurors tangled in a inquiry due to a Muggle related mishap. And God knew Draco Malfoy would be _thrilled_ to get Harry in trouble; in fact, Harry didn’t doubt that Draco would cause a mishap _just to_ see Harry sacked. When he’d concocted the plan of traveling to an isolated glen Harry’d prepared himself for the tireless complaints from Malfoy. Surprisingly, there had been none so far, and when he glanced over he saw that Malfoy was asleep. His slim face pressed against the window, breath fogging the glass, and Harry motioned for Teddy to get a picture.

 

With a snicker Teddy did so, before he flopped back into his seat. He was quiet, as were most brooding teens of fourteen, but when the scenery thinned from cityscape to countryside Teddy sat forward.

 

“Sorry you both had to come. Professor Sharp seemed pretty determined about that,” Teddy groaned as he put his boyish cheek against his knuckles. “I think he’s got it out for me.”

 

“He’s a professor,” Harry grinned, “They have it out for everyone.”

 

“Perfect,” Teddy muttered, his irritation clear in his tone, “I just want to know why Muggle Studies is so damned hard.”

 

“There are a lot of differences between us, Ted. Many of them glaringly obvious, but we have to co-exist I s’pose, and it’s meant to help you manage, on the off chance you have an encounter with Muggles.” With a smile Harry added, “Besides, Hermione talks Professor Sharp up, says the man is a Muggleborn and that he’s a much better professor than the one we had at school.”

 

“Hermione thinks anyone who gives copious amounts of homework is a good professor.”  

 

Harry couldn’t argue with that; the only professor Hermione didn’t like was Trelawny, and even then she did try to take the homework seriously. Silence fell over them, once more, as Teddy pulled out his comics and Harry glanced at him in the rearview mirror, trying to read his mood. Times like these Harry often wondered if he was doing right by Teddy. He wasn’t a great father; not by a long shot, but he was trying his best. It wasn’t like he’d had a great example of fatherhood, in his youth. Harry only hoped Remus, wherever he was, wasn’t shaking his head at them, he and Draco, in frustration. He chanced a glance at Draco, who was still fast asleep with his long arms curled around his own torso. Harry wondered why they couldn’t let it all go. Yes, Draco was a git. Yes, he’d been a right monster in school. Yes, he’d been on the other side during the war. Horrible as he was Harry didn’t hate him. Not truly--mostly, Draco frustrated him. He was a bully, but still easily led and groomed to be such. Now that Harry was older he had seen the effects of child-grooming. Being an Auror taught him things that were worse than war, and now that he was wiser he knew that Draco was no more than a product of his father’s incessant brainwashing. It was a horrible thought, but Harry would be forever grateful that Lucius Malfoy was no longer living. He hadn’t made it a year in Azkaban--killed by other inmates who’d lost loved ones to Death Eaters. For even criminals knew love and the sacrament of family.

 

He shot another glance at Draco, who was pale enough to shine, even in the darkness of night, and noticed how vulnerable he appeared in sleep. It was a far better look for him than the cool sneer he liked to wear while he was awake.  

  
  


Draco came to slowly, after he felt the calming vibrations under him die, and he saw that it was dark out. Potter’s auto was stopped in a clearing and through the window in the ceiling Draco could see a bright spill of stars above. He smiled. “Are we here, finally?” Draco asked of Potter as he stretched, his body cramped from sleeping in such a position for so long.

 

“Yes,” Potter whispered, his body twisted around to the back seat where Teddy was sprawled. He pulled a blanket over Teddy before he twisted back around to face Draco. “Tomorrow we’ll put up the tent, so tonight we’ll sleep in the car.”

 

He pulled a face, “I want to sleep in a bed, Potter, now put up the tent.”

 

The sigh that left Potter was one Draco’d been hearing since Hogwarts. Full of frustration and the desire to wring Draco’s neck, but even so the sound made him smirk. “Muggle tents don’t have beds, Malfoy. We’ll be sleeping on the ground once we get the tent put up--so shut up.”

 

“Bloody Muggles and their stupidity.”

 

Potter’s sigh was world weary then and it was a sigh worthy of an Auror. “They aren’t stupid, Malfoy, just lacking of magic.” Draco didn’t like it when _Potter_ of all people talked to him as if he were a child.

 

“Stupid,” Draco muttered beneath his breath and when Potter shot him a glower he cleared his throat. “Is there a way to lie back, I don’t much feel like sleeping curled in a ball. Hurts my poor back, you see.”

 

He didn’t expect Potter to lean over him. His smell right against Draco’s nose while his wild black hair tickled the skin on Draco’s jaw. In his chest his heart beat, erratic and loud, as Potter’s broad body radiated heat against him. Draco tried, valiantly, to keep his breathing normal, but he released a gasp when Potter pulled a lever, causing Draco to fall back with the back of his seat.

 

The chuckle was warm as it came from Potter’s throat, before he pressed his own lever and leaned slowly back. “Sleep well, Malfoy,” Potter murmured around a yawn, and moments later his breathing evened out. Draco sat awake, for a long time, studying Potter in the dark.

 

It was well known that Potter was attractive. Even Draco could, in very private moments, admit that fact. He was all tan skin, broad muscled, with that rugged look about him that others tried to recreate in Draco’s fashion rags. Potter’s hair was always a nest of wild black strands that managed to make him look as if he’d just rolled from bed, after a wonderful shag, and his short, thick, beard was the sort that caused women, and some men, to tremble in delight as they imagined how it would feel against their skin. Even the horrid glasses Potter had added to his appeal. They were not fashionable--not in the slightest--but they created a sort of careless charm when they rested low on Potter’s straight nose. Without them, as Potter was now, he looked carefree--young--and oddly vulnerable. Draco hated himself when his cock stirred in interest, and hated himself more when he reached out to ghost his fingers across Potter’s beard. His body was full of heat, Potter’s, and it seemed to seep into Draco’s cool palm, causing him to shudder in delight as he imagined other, hotter, places on Potter’s body.

 

He pulled his hand back, a silent snarl on his face directed at Potter as he thought of how unfair this was. There was a chasm between them--one Draco knew full well could never be breached. If not for all the history between them then for the sole fact that Potter liked fanny and Draco happened to be born with a cock.

 

He turned away from Potter, and looked out the window of the auto’s roof, “It’s going to be a long, long holiday,” he whispered, morose.

  


Harry woke with a dry taste in his mouth, and grimaced as he sat up--back stiff from the seat--to see Draco and Teddy outside, mucking about with the equipment. “Bloody hell,” he groaned as he stepped out of the car, popping his back when he stretched. “How long have you lot been awake?”

 

“Not long,” Teddy shrugged before he narrowed his--currently grey--eyes up at Draco. “Give me that before you break it,” he commanded, and Draco scowled but handed the poles of the tent to Teddy.

 

“This would be faster with magic,” Draco grumbled and Teddy frowned.

 

“Belt up, would you?” Then with a gesture to his bag Teddy added, “And take some sodding pictures. I don’t want to have to do this again.”

 

Draco muttered beneath his breath, a dark look on his face, but did as told and Harry only just kept from laughing at him. Instead he joined Teddy, whose hair was rapidly changing colours due to his increasing frustrations, “Would you like some help?”

 

“Yes,” Teddy moaned, sagging in relief, “He’s a right tosser--no help at all when it comes to this stuff, and I had to hide his wand.”

 

Harry did laugh then, and shook his head as he took the instructions from Teddy, “Well then, why don’t we prove to him that we don’t need wands to make things happen?”

 

“Brilliant,” Teddy muttered as he started shifting things about.

 

An hour and a half later, Harry scowled down at the instructions before he tossed them aside, “Fuck it--let’s use magic.” Behind him Draco made a mocking yet triumphant sound, and beside him Teddy stole his wand from his back pocket.

“No magic!” Teddy commanded when Harry advanced closer, intent on grabbing back his wand--not that he needed it for a spell as simple as he was thinking of, but being without his wand made him feel vulnerable in a way he did not enjoy.

 

“Fine,” Harry agreed, sagging in defeat when Teddy looked ready to scream, “No magic, but you will return my wand or you’ll be grounded to the house for two weeks when we return home.”

 

“Yeah, I want mine back, too,” Draco demanded but Harry waved him off.

 

“Keep his; I wouldn’t trust him not to use it.”

“Potter, you twat, I don’t need magic to beat you senseless,” Draco threatened and Harry laughed when he faced him. Malfoy still managed to look like a teenaged brat, even at thirty-two, when he stood there with his arms crossed and his face flushed in a snit.

 

“I’d love to see you try, Malfoy, now shut your mouth and help me with the tent.”

 

Petulantly Draco refused, “Sod off, Potter, you foul git, I’m taking pictures.” When Harry turned to snap at him for being a bastard he felt his face twist as he tried to remain angry, but he really couldn’t because there stood Draco Malfoy--twatter extraordinaire--taking pictures of himself with Teddy’s Muggle camera.

 

Teddy was the one who said something, his voice exasperated when he saw Draco, “Jesus mercy Christ, Draco!” Teddy yelled, “You’re supposed to take pictures of this, not yourself!”

 

“I’m prettier than the both of you struggling over a stupid Muggle tent,” Draco drawled in reply, but he sat the camera down, near them, regardless. “This is so boring. I can’t believe Muggles do this for _fun._ ”

 

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from replying. _For Teddy’s grade, for Teddy’s grade, for Teddy’s grade_ \--became his mantra as he sorted through the instructions again. Determined to make the sodding tent work this time round.

 

“I’m going to take a dip,”  Draco announced some time later, when they were no better off with the tent than when they’d first begun, “It’s been a while since I’ve been at the sea.” He didn’t wait for Teddy or Harry to tell him he could leave; arrogant as ever Draco strolled away.

 

Hours later, when Harry was ready to _Incendio_ the bloody tent, Teddy grumbled that he wanted to go swim as well. “Fine,” Harry bit out, harsher than intended, “We’ll go down to the bloody shore.”

 

Draco was still in the water. His pale skin glittering from the wet and his pale hair a darker gold due to the water. Harry tried not to stare as he stripped out of his jeans, trainers, and shirt--leaving his pants. Teddy decided to swim in his shorts, and kicked off his trainers, tossing his shirt behind him, before he ran over the sandy shores to the dark water. Harry, wearing a tired smile, followed at a slower pace.

 

The sea was cold, as always, but it was refreshing for Harry when it hit his hot skin and he shivered a moment before he dove beneath the surface. When he came up for air he felt a smile split his face. Only to be stolen when Draco shoved him back under. Spluttering as he surfaced a second time Harry heard Draco’s loud laughter as it carried over of the top of the water. “You look like a drowned rat, Potter.”

 

He wanted to tell Draco he looked awful, but the words were stuck in his throat. Malfoy looked the opposite of awful, in fact, Harry thought he looked exquisite. His white flesh was covered in gooseflesh, small, colourless nipples at attention, and Harry stared, openly, at the slender lines of his body. He swallowed, forcing himself to look at the shore, and willed his stirring interest away. Far, far away as he thought about Hermione in nothing more than her knickers. Gaining control over his body Harry swam closer to where Teddy was floating.

 

“Having fun?” He asked while Teddy shot him a look that seemed to say _what do you think_. “Could be worse,” Harry tried with a smile that was not convincing.

 

“How?” Teddy demanded before he stood, the water up to his chin at this depth.

 

“I could’ve killed Malfoy just now.” That got a smile from Ted and Harry grinned when Teddy splashed him in the face. They played tag for awhile before Teddy grew bored and went to collect shells. Harry long since lying on the sands, allowing his body to dry in the light of the dying sun. Draco was still in the water, but Harry didn’t bother to pay attention to him. He closed his eyes, lulled into a near sleep by the warmth on his skin. When he was very near sleep the shock of cold water falling against his heated flesh had him startling. Draco was standing near him, naked as the day he was born, dripping water onto Harry as he shook the sea from his blond hair.

 

“Jesus fuck, Malfoy,” he swore and Draco grinned. His grin grew wider when Harry’s face fell upon his cock, and Harry sputtered, “Put on some clothes, have you no shame?”

 

“Only ugly people are ashamed of their bodies,” Draco said airily as he reached for his black trousers. “I hate these clothes--they make my arse chafe.”

 

“Where are you pants?” Harry demanded, unsure of why he was asking.

 

Draco laughed, “I don’t wear under garments, Potter, they’re too restricting. Like these blasted trousers. I miss my robes.”

 

“Lord,” Harry hissed, suddenly very aware of how naked Draco had always been those times they’d met. Harry was still very Muggle when it came to his own robes. Beneath his open Auror cloak he’d wear fitted cream trousers approved by the Ministry and the fitted tunic that was considered part of the acceptable Muggle-esque uniform. Otherwise Harry felt too undressed, while the wizard born Aurors he worked with felt too constricted in the uniform Harry wore. There were still glaring differences between them, and now he saw them between himself and Malfoy.

 

Draco took a seat beside Harry, his trousers still unbuttoned, but his cock was covered and for that Harry was grateful. He sat up, suddenly uncomfortable with their proximity, and very aware of the silence between them.

 

“Are we sleeping in that horrid contraption again?” Draco asked, suddenly breaking the quiet.

 

“I s’pose we’ll have to--I can’t figure out how to work the ruddy tent.” Harry hated admitting his inability to succeed, especially to Draco, of all people, but he had a feeling they’d never get the tent up. As an afterthought he said, “We could just sleep in our sleeping bags on the ground. It’s not like we need a tent.”

 

Draco’s grey gaze shot to him then, unamused as Harry’d ever seen him, and hissed, “I will not sleep in the dirt like a barbarian!”

 

“Then you can sleep in the car,” Harry smiled, but it wasn’t kind, the expression more a sneer than anything else.

  


Draco rolled, as well as he could in the confines of his _bed_ , and sighed for the upteemth time. This was a complete disaster. Potter was mad if he thought Draco was going to spend another night in the horrible metal box or on the hard Scottish ground. He glared at Teddy’s head--mossy green hair poking out the top of his sleeping bag--and wanted to bite the little brat for hiding his wand. Instead, he sighed, _again_ , and turned on his back to look up at the stars. That was one saving grace of the night. He’d missed the midnight skyline he remembered from Hogwarts. The sky always appeared brighter in these parts than it did in London. London with it’s murky skies and starless nights. Though, Draco loved London, more than he hated it--the bustle kept him busy, and for that he was grateful else the silence of his flat, on the nights Teddy was with Potter, or at school, would drive him to insanity.

 

He looked at Potter, turning from the wondrous beauty of space, and wrinkled his nose at the oafish way Potter slept. Mouth agape, hair a mess, and his own sleeping bag tight around his broad body. Draco hated him. How anyone could get comfortable in this was beyond him.

 

Turning again he glanced at the smoke that remained from their short lived fire. Another useless attempt at Muggle-ry, but it had been funny to watch Teddy muck about with the matches. Potter was enraged when he came back with kindling to find they only had one or two left. So they were reduced to eating a can of cold beans--foul indeed--and some crackers Potter had in a box. Draco would take the slop at the Leaky over the shit Potter had forced down his throat.

 

With a final resigned sigh he fell into a fitful sleep.

 

Harry woke to a downpour and an angry Malfoy screaming.

 

“That is it!” Draco raged, kicking himself out of his bag and managing to get mud all over his face. “I quit this bloody camping trip! I quit it!” When he was free of the confines he marched to the car, and Harry exchanged a glance with a miserable--drowned cat--looking Teddy before he sighed.

 

“All right, Ted, budge up--it’s time to call it done.”

 

Teddy marched to the car with a tired expression on his wet face, and Harry gathered their supplies to put in the boot. When his work was done he slipped into the driver’s seat--silent and brooding.

 

They all were. Teddy looked on the verge of angry tears and Draco wasn’t much better where he sat stiff beside Harry. Even so Harry didn’t want Teddy to fail, and so when he put the car in drive he decided _fuck it_ before he headed to Edinburgh.

 

“Potter,” Draco hissed in warning, “I might’ve slept the entire trip but this does not seem to be the right direction.”

 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry snapped--sleep deprived and cranky.

 

Teddy, wisely, sat silent in the back.

 

Harry drove, until he saw a rather posh looking hotel and pulled into the front of it, signalling for a valet. He commanded Draco and Teddy out of the car, and marched inside--steadily ignoring the judgmental looks that other patrons of the hotel sent them. They looked awful, Harry well knew--all mud-caked, wet, and pale like death from the chill of the rain. Still Harry marched to the front desk where the startled woman took a noticeable step back.

 

“I need a large suite. I want the works, large bath, two beds, a fucking sitting room--the best you have to offer.”

 

“Sir, I don’t--” she began only to have Harry cut her off with an angry stare.

 

He reached into his billfold, retrieving the black American express Hermione had set up for his accounts at Gringotts some years ago.  Apparently, it was the sort of Muggle credit card that silenced people and got shit done--as it did so now when the woman accepted it from him without another question. Relaxing, Harry said, in a slightly kinder tone, “I apologise for my brashness, but we’ve had the camping trip from hell.”

 

Her smile was wry but still managed to seem polite when she replied, “I’ve got you a set of suites, on the top floor of the hotel, in the far right corner--they hold a lovely view of Edinburgh. I hope that helps make up for the rough start of your holiday.”

 

“After a long shower I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Harry took back his card and jerked his head to Draco and Teddy when the bellhop moved to show them to their room.

 

Draco complained about taking the lift, and the bellhop gave him odd looks when Draco hissed about Muggle establishments being subpar. Harry gave the poor man a large note for his ability to not ask what the hell Draco was on about. He was going to _kill_ Malfoy by the end of this holiday.

 

“You’r--,” Draco stopped, speechless when they stepped into the room. It was large, ostentatiously so, and in the hearth, of the suite’s front sitting room, a small fire was going, despite the season, and gave the room a rather elegant feel. Instantly, Draco brightened, at home with the idea of luxury. Spoilt brat.

 

Harry, not long after Draco claimed the large bath as his own, was starting to debate cleaning Teddy and himself with magic when Draco shouted, “Teddy, there’s a shower in here--you can use it if you’re feeling gross, I’m going to soak for awhile more yet.”

 

Harry waved him on when he looked askance at Harry.

 

Teddy emerged, shortly after, fresh faced and smiling in a fluffy robe that was much too big for his still growing body.

 

While Teddy was in the shower Harry’d rang the concierge to ask after a shop that might be open, for clothing. Harry assumed his magic black card had a lot to do with the man’s readiness to provide anything Harry desired.

 

There was a knock at the door as Harry directed Teddy to the a small, brocade sofa in front of the large, flat screen and told him he could watch whatever he wanted. Then as a second thought forbade him to explore the pornography channels. It was, after all, a bad idea to give complete control to a hormonal teenage boy who was just now discovering what his dick was intended for.

 

“Some clothing for you, sir,” a well dressed man said when Harry opened the door, three posh bags with tissue paper hiding the purchases like a present. “I took the liberty, as you suggested, and bought some various things.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry accepted the bags with a tired yet grateful expression. “This should get us through.” He tipped the man, not sure if he was supposed to but did so in gratitude before he closed the door.

 

He pulled the items from the bag and settled them against the large bed. There were some pajamas for Teddy. Made of an expensive pale blue cotton, and some pants of equal quality. Harry threw them at Teddy who pulled them on without complaint while Harry dug out Teddy’s outfit for the following day. Jeans, expensive looking jeans, leather loafers, and a simple cotton shirt. At least it wasn’t ostentatious, for that Harry was grateful. He could buy them clothes tomorrow, or the next day if they decided to spend a lazy day indoors.

 

Harry’s outfit was equally inconspicuous, but Draco’s was an all black and soft grey ensemble befitting a Malfoy. He was too tired to be impressed by the assessments of their personalities from brief interactions.

  


Draco wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the tub. He’d initially washed himself in the shower before he’d filled the deep porcelain tub with hot water to soak in, and he’d drained a bit of it down to refill twice. Because it was too bloody comfortable. His eyes were lidded, heavy with his exhaustion, and he was near asleep when Potter burst in.

 

“I’m taking a shower,” he said, eyes dark, and Draco was glad of the water to excuse his flush.

 

Without being too obvious he watched as Potter stripped down. His dirty garments fell on top of Draco’s, and Draco had to bite back a groan when he watched the muscles of Potter’s back shift beneath his tan skin. His arms were strong, and looked powerful enough to hold Draco up, against a wall, during a rough shag. It made him want, and he scowled when Potter stepped beneath the hot spray coming from the shower head.

 

Potter’s groan sounded like tantric sex and Draco bit his lip hard to keep from moaning after it. Potter didn’t take long to shower, and when he stepped from the stall he looked rather enticing. His thick wet lashes clung together and his hair still wild when he toweled it off. Draco watched beads of water run down, from his short, but thick beard, and he followed them over Potter’s excessively toned chest. Ruddy Aurors and their beautiful bodies. He followed their course down Potter’s taut abs, and glanced away when he reached the line of Potter’s dark pubic hair. He refused to look at his cock. Potter probably had a beautiful cock--a cock made for tasting, a cock made for riding--and Draco refused to have it burned in his memory. To mock him when the only release that came was the release of his own hand. He had enough wet dreams involving Potter to last him a lifetime--he didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

 

When the door closed behind Potter’s firm arse, Draco didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his hand around his own cock and brought himself off in a few rough strokes. He felt humiliated when he came--like he had the first time he brought himself off to Potter, when they were in fifth year, and he felt no closer to Potter now than he had back then.

 

“Damn it,” Draco sighed while he once again reached forth to drain the bath.  

 

Upon further exploration Harry discovered that they did, indeed, have a second room. It was smaller than the one they were congregated in, but was nice with a telly and a fairly large bed. It held a bathroom, but there was only a shower, and Harry knew immediately Draco would refuse that room, so he decided to take it as his own. Despite paying he didn’t feel like fighting, and he moved his few garments to the wardrobe of the other room.

 

Teddy was still on the small sofa in Draco’s room, watching some film--based on Muggle comics--and he was in a world all his own. Draco was finally out of the bath, wrapped in a fluffy white towel and looking over the room service menu. “Potter,” he commanded, in that haughty tone he’d never outgrown, and Harry paused, holding his dirty clothes--trying to decide what to do with them.

 

When Draco didn’t seem ready to tell him what he wanted Harry snapped, “What, Malfoy?”

 

“I keep trying to figure out how this menu works.”

 

Harry felt his eyebrows lift, surprised, “You ring the number and order.”

 

“I don’t see a numbered bell,” Draco said, dead serious, and Harry released a startled laugh.

 

Taking pity Harry collected the telephone from the bedside table and rang the number on the menu. “What do you want?” He held the phone against his shoulder while it rang.

 

“Sea bass, and a bottle of Chablis,” Draco said with a casual shrug, as if were a boring snack. Harry rolled his eyes, humoured despite himself.

 

Harry relayed the request to the man who answered, and ordered some popcorn, soda, some Scotch pie, and fish and chips. “Plebeian,” Draco sniffed as he settled back against the cherry stained headboard. Harry felt awkward then, sitting at the edge of Draco’s bed, and stood with stiff movements.

 

“Where are you going,” Draco demanded.

 

“Er...my room,” Harry replied as if it were obvious.

 

“Not until my food comes. I don’t know how to deal with these Muggle things.”

“He rolls in a cart of covered dishes, you tip him, he leaves,” Harry sighed as if it were obvious. He was _tired_ damn it, and he didn’t care what Draco needed--he needed bed. “Ted’ll help you.”

 

Draco made a face that conveyed how little that reassured him, and when Harry glanced over to Teddy he could see that he was, indeed, engrossed in the film he was watching.

 

“Fine, I’ll stay--budge over.” The bed was heavenly, and Harry’s eyes closed near instantly.

 

Potter, of course, fell asleep before the food arrived, and Draco hissed at him when he couldn’t find the Muggle notes.  
  


“Billfold, on the little table in the sitting room,” Harry mumbled and Draco retrieved the battered leather, opening it and selecting a few brightly colored notes at random. The paper didn’t look like much, but he supposed it was acceptable when the man tipped his head with a small smile.

 

He didn’t thank the man, just handed it to him, and ignored him when he slipped, silent, from the room.

 

“Teddy,” Draco called, “Food.”

 

“Bring it in here,” Teddy called back, and Draco frowned but rolled the cart into the bedroom. Unsurprisingly, Teddy didn’t take his eyes from the Muggle contraption on the wall while Draco passed him his food.

 

The pictures moved so quickly at times that they made Draco dizzy, but it was rather captivating. Brighter than a pensive and faster than a portrait. “So what is this,” he asked, taking a seat beside Teddy as he pulled his plate onto his lap.

 

“It’s called a film,” Teddy sounded awed, and Draco side-eyed him--watching the way his large eyes darted after the images--it made him smile. “It’s bloody brilliant.”

 

“Is it now?” Draco asked, oddly indulgent before he took his first bite of his dinner. He nearly died of pleasure, thanking every deity in existence for the fact that Potter’s horrible camp fare hadn’t ruined his tastebuds.

“Yes,” Teddy whispered, not bothering to pay attention to the greedy way Draco ate his dinner. “This man, Tony Stark, is bloody fantastic. He has this suit that puts Harry’s magic to shame.”

 

Draco’s chuckle was warm, “Don’t let Potter hear you say that, and my magic is better than Potter’s so that’s hardly impressive.”

 

“He’s Muggle, though, so it’s not magic--it’s science.”

 

Humming, Draco pulled the cork from his wine and poured himself a glass, content to just sit beside Teddy as they ate and followed the film in silence.  

 

After he’d eaten Draco felt heavy and tired. He tried to get Teddy to turn off the telly, but Teddy refused. Claiming he wanted to see the next film the commercials--whatever those were--talked about.

 

“I have to see what happens, D,” Teddy pleaded. And Draco relented, only because he hadn’t called Draco _D_ since he was in nappies.

 

“Can’t you watch it on the other telly?”

 

Not a second later Teddy was a blur of movement as he hurried into the other bedroom. Leaving Draco and a shirtless, snoring, Potter alone. He rolled his eyes as he climbed into the bed. Slipping beneath the soft cotton duvet Draco was mindful not to jostle Potter. Not that the oaf would’ve done more than grunt, but Draco didn’t need the burn of his skin. He was too tired to deal with the pain of unwelcome arousal. When he’d settled against the soft pillows he fell asleep, and was comforted by the clean scent and the warm weight of a man behind him.

 

Harry came to slowly. His body heavy and content from a good sleep. Rolling his shoulders he heard his back crack and sighed as that made him feel even more content--the only thing that could make it better would be waking to a blow job. Harry was giddy, until he turned and came face to face with a sleeping Malfoy curled around him.

 

“Fuck,” he shouted, startled, and Malfoy jerked awake. Hitting Harry in the face with the top of his hard head--causing them to both yell.

 

“Christ’s sake, Potter!” Draco screamed at him as he clutched the top of his head.

 

“Why are you in my bed,” Harry wondered, truly perplexed.

 

“Correction, Potter, you are in my bed. You passed out in it while we were waiting for our food, and I sent Teddy to the other one when he insisted on watching those ruddy films.” With a sneer he added, “Don’t worry I wasn’t trying to rob you of your virtue.”

 

“Haven’t got any virtue left,” Harry whispered startling both Draco and himself. The silence that followed was awkward, and neither of them looked at the other.

 

Luckily Teddy interrupted them then.

 

“The front desk rang and asked if we’d be interested in taking tea this afternoon, I told them yeah.” He was dressed in his fresh clothing and was looking rather chipper for a boy who’d spent the night awake watching films. “Tea’s in about fifteen minutes so you’d both better get ready.”

 

Draco hurried, muttering about how that wasn’t enough time to look socially acceptable and Harry shared a look with Teddy before he moved out of the bed.

 

In the other bathroom Harry washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hands through his hair and sprayed on his deodorant before he pulled on his new clothing. It took five minutes.

 

They waited for Draco near the door of their suite and as the minutes wore on Harry grew increasingly frustrated. He was hungry and his patience with Draco was dangerously low when coupled with hunger.

 

“Damnit, Malfoy, we haven’t got all sodding da--,” he stopped, his tongue thick in mouth when Draco stepped out in his new clothes. Harry knew--had known for some time in fact--that Draco was attractive. Really a blind man could see that. And for years Harry had been struggling with his growing attraction to Teddy’s other guardian, but too see him in clothes that were cut to fit was a problem in and of itself.

 

Harry was rather glad of Teddy’s presence when he pulled on Harry’s arm, muttering, “Finally, let’s go. I’m dying for some tea.” Harry’s laugh felt mechanical as he allowed Teddy to drag him from the room. Draco followed with an elegant walk that was far less rushed, watching them both with an amused expression that went straight to Harry’s cock.

 

_Shit._

 

Teddy was telling them about his films, and how he managed to look so chipper after not sleeping Draco would never understand. Though, it was endearing and amusing to see Teddy so animated. Lately, he’d been brooding and surly--this was a better look on him, Draco decided.

 

“I think Tony Stark is the greatest Muggle to ever live,” Teddy declared before he stuffed another sandwich into his mouth. Draco tisked at his display of manners, but didn’t say anything when he saw Potter acting no less uncouth as the man slirped his tea down in one gulp.

 

“He’s not real, Ted, it was just a film,” Potter said--ever the one to lack tact and Draco kicked him beneath the table. Earning himself a glare from Potter, but ignoring it as he turned his gaze to Teddy.

 

Teddy’s expression and tone were pure sarcasm when he said, “I’m not an idiot, Harry. I’m just saying if I have to write a report on a Muggle I’m writing it on him.”

 

Potter, the pig-headed fool, narrowed his eyes and asked, “So, uh, if you had to write about a wizard--” Teddy cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

“I’d write it about Sirius Black.”

 

Draco laughed, rather loudly, at the shock that dropped over Potter’s face. When Potter turned on him with narrowed eyes Draco laughed harder, “You should see your face, Potter, you look like a heartbroken school girl.”

 

He felt rather unimpressed when Potter kicked him back, beneath the table. While they were locked in a stare down Teddy’s camera clicked away as he took pictures, and when Draco looked away from Potter--first much to the bastard’s smug amusement--he saw that Teddy was taking pictures of them.

 

“What,” Teddy shrugged, nonchalant, “I got to prove we did this all together.” Downing the rest of his tea, he looked to them and said, “So can we go shopping?”

 

Harry kept trying to ignore the way people stopped and gaped at Draco as they moved about from shop to shop. However, it became harder to ignore when heads whipped around to follow his elegant movements, and became harder still when he recognised the pull of jealousy swirling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Teddy was oblivious to it all, of course, he was more interested in finding a shirt with Tony Stark on it. Tony Bloody Stark, the new bane of Harry’s existence. Especially after he’d heard the offhanded comments Draco made about the man’s attractiveness. Harry needed to find someone to get off with--Malfoy was affecting him far too deeply for his liking.

 

The tireless search for “suitable” Muggle clothing was something Harry never wanted to experience again with Draco. Not only was it boring, something Teddy agreed with him on, it was doing horrible things for his libido.

 

Every time Draco came out in trousers cut to fit, like second skin, against his round arse Harry wanted to commit murder. Or perhaps commit an act of lewd and indecent behaviour. Murder seemed like a better option between the two. He didn’t need pictures of him mauling Draco against the wall of a Muggle shop to pop up in _The Daily Prophet._

 

By the time they got back to the hotel--Harry’s arms full of Draco’s purchases--he was hard in his pants, and had been for hours.

 

Dinner was an equally unpleasant affair. Draco smiled at Teddy with genuine joy, and Harry found himself enjoying Draco’s company. He didn’t even mind when Draco made a shot at his tastes as Draco ordered dinner for them all--on Harry’s pound.

 

He was only half present as they ate, some insane beautifully crafted five course meal Harry hardly tasted. Draco’s cool fingers at the corner of his mouth startled Harry durning the soup and he blinked when he watched Draco draw his long fingers away to taste the sauce he’d caught off Harry’s skin.

 

“It looked rather tasty,” Draco smiled, looking at Harry from between his dark gold lashes, and Harry blushed. Like a fucking school girl, and Draco must’ve noticed for his grin grew--becoming something predatory.

 

Harry didn’t listen to a word Teddy or Draco said when they got back to the suite. He just tossed Draco’s bags to the sitting room’s floor and stalked to the second bedroom, slamming the bathroom door behind him before he angrily started the shower.

 

The warm water had barely touched his skin when he started to pull himself off. Mouth open on a gasp as he came remembering Draco’s tongue as it pulled the sauce from the tip of his finger.

 

“Fuck my life,” he groaned, pressing his head against the tile.

 

Teddy was on another film, and Draco rolled his eyes at him before he saw Potter enter the sitting room--shirtless and still damp from the shower.

 

“I need a shirt,” he said--expression dark and unreadable--and Draco had to suck at his lips to keep from telling Potter he didn’t think he needed any clothing. Ever. In fact, Draco would be perfectly fine with Potter being nude for all eternity.  

 

Instead, he leaned against the wall--casual--and tried to appear nonchalant when he said, “Would you like to join me at the bar? I hear they take you on a tour of different scotches for a meager price.”

 

“Am I buying?” Potter asked, a humoured gleam to his eyes Draco found endearing.

 

“Well you are the noble one out of the two of us; it’s only right.” He laughed and Draco knew he had him then.

 

An hour later, when they were both a slight bit intoxicated Draco found himself smiling more. Laughing at Potter’s admittedly funny tales from work.

 

“So why did you want to drink with me,” Potter asked, eyes alight with delight. “I figured you’d prefer the company of Muggles to me.”

 

Draco snorted, but--perhaps it was the alcohol--answered Potter honestly. “I like you, Potter.”

 

Expression unreadable Potter watched him for a moment before he threw back the rest of his drink and wrapped his hand around Draco’s wrist. Leading him back to the suite. Intentions obvious in the tense set of his shoulders, and Draco shivered.

 

Harry kicked the larger bedroom’s door shut behind them, throwing a locking and silencing spell up around them--despite the fact Teddy was too passed out in the other room to notice.

 

“What about Teddy’s grad-,” Draco started but Harry cut him off with a harsh kiss.

 

“Fuck his grade,” he growled, rucking his shirt up and ripping it off over his head.

 

Draco hummed, his grey eyes roaming Harry’s broad chest appreciatively before he purred, “I’d much rather you fuck me.”

 

“God, yes,” Harry hissed, ripping open Draco’s new shirt.

 

“I actually _liked_ that one, Potter.” Draco protested--half serious.

 

“I’ll buy you a thousand more like it,” Harry said as his hands moved to yank open Draco’s trousers, “I’m rich don’t you know?”

 

Draco chuckled, but the sound tapered off into a low moan when Harry got his hand around Draco’s cock. Harry had him trapped against the wall, body pressed close enough to pin him but far enough away for him to watch as Draco’s flushed cock slipped in and out of the ring his hand created.

 

“Gonna fuck me against this wall, Potter,” Draco asked--sounding hopeful.

 

Harry’s laugh was low, and dark, laced with his desire, “Maybe later.”  He pressed his teeth into Draco’s neck, drawing a gasp from him, “I want you to ride me the first time I fuck you.”

 

Draco was so happy Potter suggested it--it had been one of his longest running fantasies pertaining The Man Who Lived Twice. Once he’d got out of his trousers Draco had snatched some slick Potter offered and worked himself open. Just enough to be able to take Potter’s cock and just enough to still feel the burn of it.

 

Which he did as he began to sink down upon Potter, facing the wall, giving Potter an unobstructed view as he took him in--inch by inch.

 

Potter swore, a litany of filth that Draco only caught half of. He was too busy reveling in the stretch of Potter in him--the scorch of his skin between Draco’s thighs, and the rough grip in which he held Draco’s slim wrists. Potter bucked up into him, suddenly, and Draco cried out as he rocked into it when Potter did it again.

 

“Potter,” he sighed, eyes fluttering as he felt the tingle of Potter’s velvet skin within him.

 

Holding him tighter at the wrists, Potter used Draco’s arms to help him thrust up, deeper, and hissed, “Call me Harry, I’m bollocks deep in your arse, you know.”

 

“Potter,” he moaned again before another deep, jarring thrust came.

 

“Seriously, Draco, I want to hear you cry my name.”  Potter pulled one of his wrists to his mouth, biting down into the flesh before he sucked on it. Draco basked in the idea of the dark bruise it would create.  

 

Draco met Potter’s next thrust with a downward grind of his own, and sighed, “Fuck me well enough and I’ll call you anything you want.”

 

Potter fucked like raw violence. It was terrifying and beautiful in equal measures, and in the morning he would have the bruises and beard burn to remind him of Potter’s brilliant sex. That’s what finally sent Draco over the edge; the idea that Potter’s claim would be a deep and visible in his skin.

  


Five months later:

 

Teddy stood in front of his Muggle Studies class, going through the slideshow of pictures he’d acquired during his family trip. Many of them contained Draco looking lazy and handsome while Harry and Teddy looked frustrated and sweaty in the background.

 

Some others showed Teddy in the sea, and Harry asleep shirtless on the shore. A lot of the girls in Teddy’s class openly appreciated that, and he just managed to keep from rolling his eyes.

 

Draco and Harry mud covered and angry nearly made Teddy laugh when he stumbled upon that slide, but he refrained and went to the next picture of them passed out in the hotel’s bed.

 

The next fifteen or so pictures were of the hotel itself, the staff, the random Muggle tourists who’d been visiting from The States, and the dark streets of Edinburgh that he'd taken from their room's balcony.

 

A few were of Harry and Draco bickering at tea. Then too many of Harry staring blatantly at Draco’s bum while Draco modeled Muggle clothes. There was a picture of Teddy making a disgusted face at the camera while Draco and Harry were in the background making eyes at one another.  

 

Dinner was splayed out in a succession of photos that started with the appetizer and continued through all the meal until dessert. Then there were Harry and Draco again, and in the picture there was a softness set around Draco’s eyes as his fingers lingered at Harry’s mouth. Harry, still in the frame, was wide-eyed and captivated. It was almost too private to share, but of all the pictures he’d taken it was Teddy’s favourite from the trip.

 

“My summer project was a success,” he said to the class. “It proved to me that you don’t always need magic to get things done. The Muggles seem to survive and succeed all right without any, and after thirteen years raising me Harry and Draco finally got off together.” Professor Sharp made a horrified sound, but Teddy ignored him when he continued, “If I had known denying them magic would get them to admit their feelings for one another I’d have lied to them ages ago about wanting to camp.” He shrugged when one of the girls giggled, “As it is I’m looking forward to the summer hols, because when I go home this year I’ll be going to one place and there both my guardians--my parents--will be.”

 


End file.
